


say I do

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/F, F/M, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Marriage, been married the whole time, tumblr promts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26133811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: We’re married. They’ve been married the entire time. That’s it. Enjoy.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 193





	say I do

**Author's Note:**

> Ya’ll I did some research on this one. Get ready to learn some random shit.
> 
> Stay safe, stay well.

2350 B.C., Mesopotamia

“Wanna get married?” 

Fuzzy around his edges, Aziraphale stared blankly back at the equally drunk demon. “What’s that?” He said after a long moment of consideration that amounted to nothing.

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Crawley grinned, topping off their cups that really didn’t need it.

“Do what now?” Aziraphale tried again.

“Get married!” Crawley seemed very taken with the idea of it, whatever it was.

“But why?” Aziraphale decided on taking a different approach. It worked in the sense that it made Crawley pause, the demon staring off into the distance. Aziraphale turned to so the same just in case something was there. There wasn’t. It was still just them under a date tree out in the wilderness, getting drunk on too much wine. 

“You know, married and such.” Was Crawley’s eventual unhelpful answer.

“Obviously not.” Aziraphale squinted. He got squinty when he was this annoyed and that inebriated with Crowley.

“Humans just invented it! Brilliant idea! We should totally do it too.” Crawley said, gesturing expansively to spill most of the wine he’d just poured.

“You still haven’t explained anything about it, like what it actually is.” Aziraphale pointed out dryly, snapping away the spilled wine before the demon slipped himself and what was left in his cup up onto the ground.

“They’re doing it down in the villages today. Big gathering for it. We should go. Participate and such. We’d be blending in.” Crawley continued on, completely undetoured by the reasonable request. “Something to do with the merging of goats, I think.”

“They’re marrying goats? I don’t want to do anything with goats, much less merge with or marry one, which I still have no idea what that’s all about.”

“No, the human are marrying each other. Goats are involved elsewhere...I think.”

“I still don’t want to be involved with goats in any way, shape, or form.”

“Are you seriously still mad about that goat eating your meal back in the day of Cain and Abel, before everything got serious?” Crawley chided. 

“Serious, as in the invention of murder? Yes, surprisingly enough, the whole incident still doesn’t sit well with me.” Aziraphale said. The angel had been tasked with keeping an eye on those boys. That had gone about as well as him guarding the Tree. 

“Well, there’ll be a huge feast and loads of free wine afterward.” Crawley concluded. 

“Why didn’t you just say that from the get-go, you silly serpent?” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes as Crawley pulled the angel to his feet.

And that was how in the year of 2350 B.C., an angel and a demon got married for the very first time, though the villagers thought it was a little odd considering they were both male presenting at the time. The pair were so drunk that the humans just went along with it anyway for the entertainment value alone. Aziraphale and Crawley had such a lovely time doing it that it started a trend between them. The next time it happened was under more pressing circumstances.

1400 B.C., Somewhere out on the Mediterranean ocean near Crete...well, nearish. 

Crawley didn’t know what she hated more: misogyny, boats, the ocean in general, or horses. The demon was currently experiencing all four things at once. She should have known when Beelzebub gave her this assignment with a grin that it was going to be particularly bad. Why the fuck Hell would give a red hot damn about getting some flea bitten nags to Crete was beyond her, but here Crawley was, on a horrid boat full of horrid men and even worse horses without a speck of land in sight. 

Crawley had spent most of the journey sitting. Her method of walking didn’t mesh with the way boats constantly moved underfoot. When she did have to change locations, she became a great source of amusement for the crew, all of whom were very vocal and suggestive about it. 

Since the objective was getting the horses to Crete, the rest was all collateral in the demon’s opinion, and she had plans for that later on. The men dared not draw near her, Crawley allowing her demonic aura to create a barrier between them and her, but she could still see and feel their wicked intent for her. As soon as the horses were off this damn boat, Crawley was going to sink it and its crew to the bottom of the ocean. 

About the only good thing about this assignment was that it would only take a day or two, depending on the wind and skill of the crew. Crawley had been bored and drunk for much longer periods of time. In fact, it would appear that they had almost arrived, the demon squinting at some specks out on the ocean. The crew noticed them as well, but reacted in a far more vivid manner.

“Pirates!”

“Fucking Hell, not land.” Crawley sighed as she finished her wine. Damn pirates were going to make her get up and actually do something. With the crew losing their minds all around her, the demon strolled across the deck the best she could without falling over so that she could get a better look at the incoming threat. Three ships were rapidly drawing nearer, fast vessels not weighed down by cargo and stupid fat horses. 

“This is such a ridiculous waste of my time.” Crawley told one of the terrified sailors who only stared back at her. Double snapping at the pirate ships, Crawley sought to sink them, and return to her drunk moping. 

Except, they did not.

“Now that’s equally interesting and irritating.” Crawley observed, snapping at the pirate ships again, but to no avail. They remained above the waters. As they drew near enough to board the merchant ship, Crawley realized why her wiles had been thwarted. 

The pirate ships had been heavily blessed by an angel. Anything Crawley threw at them was being instantly canceled out. It was the most obvious answer, but Crawley couldn’t figure out why Heaven would have an investment in pirates, or why the only angel she knew stationed on Earth would have done the blessing. 

The merchant ship was easily boarded. After a brief scuffle, the crew was slaughtered, their bodies thrown overboard to feed the fish. Unfortunately, that left Crawley with a fresh set of problems. She still had to get those damn horses to Crete. 

As the pirates surrounded her, Crawley toyed with the idea of killing them all, and just sailing the boat herself. Her other idea was to convince the pirates to do it for her. One way would be quicker, but the other way would be much more fun. 

“Crawley? Is that you?” Short circuited the demon’s decision making, Crawley watching in amazement as an angel graced them with his presence. She could only stare. In all the millennia Crawley had known Aziraphale, the demon had never seen the angel sporting long hair and a full beard. 

“Do you know anyone else who looks like me?” Crawley found her tongue still worked, but just barely, answering on automatic as she took it all in. Aziraphale’s snowy hair was as curly as her own, but fluffier, even when it was tied back. 

And the beard! Crawley hadn’t known beards were a thing for her until now, everything down there becoming a slick mess that made her thighs shift and twitch. 

“What are you doing here?” Aziraphale asked, chatting her up like they had just causally run into each other at market. The pirates seemed quite miffed about it. The angel’s inability to read a room still made the demon smile every time. 

“I could ask you the same thing. Why are you a pirate? Not very angelic work.” Crawley pointed out, ignoring the confused humans as well. 

“I am most certainly not a pirate.” Aziraphale had the gall to sound offended.

“He’s a passenger.” A pirate supplied. He was wearing the most gold, and had the best clothing so Crowley presumes that he must be the captain.

“Didn’t know pirates took on passenger.” Crawley said, arching a brow at the captain. 

“We don’t. Usually.” The pirate captain was still quite confused about how that had happened. “You know this woman?”

“No, not at all. He’s chatting me up in the middle of raid to find out my dining preferences.” Crawley drawled out, giving the human an unimpressed look. That turned out to be the wrong thing to say.

“Maybe you’ll learn to be quiet after I cut out your tongue.” The pirate captain said as he drew his knife, reaching for her face. He didn’t get very far in doing that, supernaturally strong hands keeping human gently in place. The knife faired far worse, Aziraphale easily folding it over in on itself. 

“That will be unnecessary. I’ll take responsibility for her.” Aziraphale told the dumbfounded men pleasantly. 

“Will you now?” Crawley said, managing to sound almost normal about it. Her current parts were not making it easy for her though. They were beginning to ache in the sweetest way, but now was not the time or place for her to see to that. 

“Crawley, what are you doing here?” Aziraphale asked sternly in the tone of ‘I’m trying to help you here so quit being an ass’. 

“Not my idea, I assure you. I have to get those bloody horses below deck to Crete.” Crawley sighed. 

“Goodness, that is odd. Whatever for?” Aziraphale asked, looking about as perplexed as she felt. 

“No idea. Don’t care. You next. Why are you a passenger on a pirate ship?” Crawley shot back, already having an idea about that. Knowing Aziraphale, he probably just asked where the boat was going, and boarded it. 

“I have to get to Crete as well. This was the fastest human way to do so. I’m on orders as well.” Aziraphale said. “And I didn’t know it was a pirate ship when I boarded.” He added, confirming Crawley’s suspicion. Unfortunately for pirates, Aziraphale simply assumed one could be a passenger on any boat as long as it was going to the destination he wanted. 

“Ah, so that’s why the boats were blessed.”

“Oh dear, did I unintentionally thwart you?”

“Yes. Yes, you did.“

“Terribly sorry about that.” Because of course Aziraphale would be polite enough to apologize, even to a demon for doing his job. “What exactly were you trying to do?”

“Sink the boats.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“They were raiding the ship.”

“Fair enough.” Aziraphale shrugged, “So you just need to get some horses to Crete then?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’re in luck. We can all go together then.”

“About that...” the pirate captain interrupted, flinching as he received dual stares of varying degree of severity. It was then that Aziraphale realized that he was still holding the human in place. He let go with an apology, the pirate captain putting some distance between them to join the rest of his crew.

“Yes, Thucydides?” Aziraphale asked, the angel always making the effort to learn all the human’s names he traveled with. Crawley couldn’t say same, but considering all the merchant crew were currently fish food, Crawley was glad she hadn’t wasted the effort and energy.

“While we don’t mind whatever you are, we don’t want that, that,” Thucydides struggled to name the demon. Him and crew were fairly certain that Aziraphale was some sort of a kind demigod, or minor deity. They were fine with that considering previously foul weather had dissipated as soon as Aziraphale had boarded the ship, all the men were suddenly hardy and well, and Claudius was alive and still among the living, which was impressive because he had drowned earlier in the day. 

“Choose your next words cautiously.” Crawley smiled. The expression was not a friendly one. The view of sharp teeth made some of the men pale, and others turn away to pray.

“Not helping.” Aziraphale said out of the side of his mouth. 

“That woman. We don’t want that woman on any of our ships. We want you to throw her into the ocean.” Thucydides managed out, looking hopefully over at the angel. 

“Oh, I think not. That will not end well for anyone.” Aziraphale said over the sounds of Crawley’s laughter. “But what if I were to bind her to me?”

“Would she be under your control?” Thucydides asked nervously. 

“Completely.” Aziraphale said before Crawley could get a word in edgewise. 

“What are you doing?” Crawley asked, torn between her curiosity and her perpetual need to fuck shit up. The pirates and Thucydides were too busy discussing the matter amongst themselves to notice.

“I have a plan that will be beneficial to us both.” Aziraphale said. He wasn’t given a chance to explain it, Thucydides returning. 

“If you can bind her to you, we will continue onward to Crete.” Thucydides said, “How are you to do this?”

“I will need your assistance.” Aziraphale told him, the human looking suddenly very nervous. “You need to marry us for it to work.”

“Is that really all?” Thucydides said, looking incredulously back and forth between them. With a soft sigh, Aziraphale nudged Crawley. 

“Oh no! Not marriage! I will be bound until the end of my days. It is a fate worse than death. I beg you to throw me into the ocean for I could not bear such a fate!” The demon cried and flailed about, overly dramatic. “Woe is me!”

“Yes, quite. Can we get on with it?” Aziraphale looked as if he might be praying for patience as Crawley threw herself at his feet to keep loudly lamenting her lot in life.

“And that will work?” Thucydides said, still sounding unsure about it. 

“Yes, I promise you it will. Once it is over, she will turn into a snake, a lovely quiet snake.” Aziraphale told him over the racket going on at his feet. 

“I will?” Crawley broke character to grin cheekily up at the angel. 

“You will.“ Aziraphale said, giving her a little kick to the ribs to keep her from laughing. 

“I mean, yes, I will! However did you know my cursed weakness! Forever a snake until the end of my days! Woe! Woe! Woe! Crawley resumed lamenting with great fervor. 

“You can begin whenever you like.” Aziraphale said wearily to Thucydides, reaching down to pull Crawley to her feet.

“I’ll need a lock of her hair.“ Thucydides said nervously, glancing back and forth between her fiery locks and his ruined knife.

“Come and get it then.” Crawley sneered, the effect of it ruined by Aziraphale neatly cutting a lock off. He ignored the demon’s glare as it was handed over to a less than thrilled Thucydides.

“I’m sorry, but you’re being difficult, and I want to get Crete sometime this century.” Aziraphale said. Sticking her forked tongue out, Crawley made a face at him, crossing her arms in answer. 

“This is an offering to Hera, goddess of marriage. May she notice this union, and place her blessings upon it.” Thucydides said. He didn’t get much chance to do anything else, Crawley causing her lock of hair to incinerate in his hand. 

“Incredibly difficult.” Aziraphale said as he healed Thucydides‘s hand. 

“I needed that to braid into your hair to complete the ceremony.” Thucydides said to the angel in a shaky voice, completely changing Crawley’s disposition in an instant. Aziraphale’s long white hair streaked with red was suddenly something she very much wanted to see for herself. 

“Well, you should have said as much.” Crawley said quickly, already cutting off a particularly long lock. “I’ll have to do it.”

“You will?” Thucydides and Aziraphale said at the same time, coming from vastly different emotional places.

“You’ve already brought down Hera’s attention upon us. If we stop now, she’ll curse us all. At least as a snake, I’ll still be alive. Can’t say the same about you lot though.” Crawley said as she gestured at Aziraphale to sit down, the angel immediately complying. The rest backed away from them, which in Crawley’s opinion was an absurd reaction to some hair braiding.

Aziraphale unbound his hair for her, the snowy cascade of it fanning out across his shoulders to hang down his back. Heaven and Hell, Crowley thought she’d been ready, grateful that Aziraphale could not see her face or her shaking hands. His curls were even softer than they looked. She chose a spot in the back, where peeks of red could be caught, but could still be easily hidden if necessary. Her hair entwined with the angel’s own reminded her of fresh blood on snow. It was profane, and yet, Crawley couldn’t stop touching Aziraphale hair, or look away. 

“Everything all right back there. I know it’s a bit of a mess.” Aziraphale said softly. 

“Not nearly as bad as your wings.” Crawley murmured. Some awkward coughing reminded the demon that they weren’t alone, their audience getting steadily uncomfortable the more time passed. “Right, let’s get on with the rest of it then.”

“Wait.” Aziraphale said, “I want to see it.”

Feeling suddenly shy, Crawley bought the braid round, Aziraphale’s hair more than long enough to do so. The angel studied it, sending Crawley’s thought process into overdrive, not all of it good. She wondered if Aziraphale was offended to have part of being sullied by a demon. 

“You need one of your own.” Brought Crawley’s higher brain functions to an abrupt halt. The demon soon found herself kneeling, the angel busily braiding his own hair into her own. Crawley shivered as her body didn’t do her any favors as her own slick slid down her thighs. Luckily for everyone present, Aziraphale was far quicker with braiding hair. Crawley didn’t dare look at it. She wouldn’t stop if her did, but she did hold onto it, running her fingers over the thin braid. 

“Do you take this man as your husband?” Thucydides asked her. 

They had done this sort of thing many times before, but it still thrilled Crawley to say “I do.

“Do you take this woman as your wife.” Thucydides asked Aziraphale next. 

“I do.” The angel looked just as affected as he reached up to touch his own hair. 

“Then may the gods bless this marriage.” Thucydides said. Coming out of her daze, Crawley realized a moment later that everyone was looking expectantly over at her.

“Any moment now.” Aziraphale prompted, reminding Crawley that she was supposed to be doing something other than staring into the angel’s eyes and stroking her hair. 

“Oh, yeah. Cursed snake thing.” Crawley said, shifting a moment later into her other form. The size of which made the humans draw back and scream in fear. Snickering to herself, Crawley shrunk down to appease the glare Aziraphale was directing at her. Inspiration and opportunity struck her at the same time, the snake crawling up the angel’s body as she continued to shrink down to a smaller size by the time she got to his shoulders. Looping herself around Aziraphale’s hair, Crawley bound it back for him, shrinking around it until she was the perfect size. Ignoring the pirates’s cheers, Crawley delighted in burying her whole head in the sea of white curls, tasting the angel’s scent to her heart’s content. 

“A very quiet snake indeed.” Aziraphale chuckled, leaving her there even after they reached Crete. 

1341 B.C., Egypt

“Aziraphale! Blast it! Over here!” Was what caught the angel’s attention in passing as he strolled through Thebes’s bustling open air market. 

“Crawley, whatever are you doing at a slave auction?” Aziraphale found the demon stripped naked with a course robe tied around her neck. It was connected to the necks of the other slaves, men and woman and children, the body of people being sold off at market. Like the rest of them, Aziraphale could tell Crowley had been whipped at some point, dried blood flaking off of her bruised back. 

“Taking a survey.” Crawley said in a deadpan voice before losing it a bit, “What does it look like, you idiot?!”

“It would appear that you’re part of the inventory.” Aziraphale observed. 

“Well spotted.” Crawley stressed, “Not in here for my health so let’s get a move on about getting me out before the bidding begins.”

“Why don’t you...” Aziraphale mimicked their usual gesture of problem solving.

“I can’t! Not my fault, but it’s a bit complicated.” Crawley sighed. 

“Dare I ask?”

“I’d rather you not.” Crawley managed to say before she was forcefully yanked off her feet. They were going to whip her for speaking. The slaver’s hand was stayed by an iron vise-like grip that crushed his finer bones like they were made of chalk. The slaver stumbled back, crying out in pain as he clutched his ruined wrist to his chest. 

“Take your hands off of her this instant! That is my wife!” Aziraphale said with barely contained angelic wrath. It made anyone with good sense and fantastic survival instincts draw away from him.

“Your wife? Can you prove this?” Some human with more balls than brains spoke up. The giant human in expensive robes appeared to be the one in charge, though he visibly lost some of his bravado when he locked eyes with the angry angel. 

“Find me a priest, steward, or whatever passes for a holy person here. I will wed this woman again before everyone as witness.” Aziraphale ordered, putting some power behind it. 

“Do as he bids. I want to see this.” The slavemaster sneered even as he fell back a few steps. Humans scrambled to comply while the the slavemaster tried to make sense of what was happening here. “You are truly married to this unfortunate thing?

“Afraid so.”

“You could do so much better. I have much prettier, younger women and untouched girls for sale. You’re obviously a man of wealth, used to the finer things in life.” The slavemaster said, taking in the angel’s expensive linen kilt and sheath with its broad shoulders straps, the outfit threaded and beaded with gold, beads, and jewels. Even his papyrus sandals had some gold worked into them. 

“No. I’m quite keen on getting her back.” Aziraphale said, his own plans for the slavemaster beginning to form.

“I have females here that have hips for birthing, unlike this one.” The slavemaster added like it was an incentive. Aziraphale answered him with a withering look. 

“Oi!” Crowley glared. She had plans for the slavemaster when her powers returned. A fair amount of those ideas involved honey and insects. 

“Ones who do not talk back.” The slavemaster added, “I could whip her for you.”

“Sir, you shall do no such thing.” Aziraphale said as he emitted that threatening aura again. “If I were you, I would bite your tongue. That is my beloved wife you’re speaking of.”

“You can have her back and in your bed for three deben.” The slavemaster had the gall to tell the angel. 

“I’ll give you half of that, and not a shat more.” Aziraphale spit back. 

“Are you seriously haggling?“ Crawley groaned. 

“His pricing is ridiculous. You’re a little bit too long in the tooth for what he’s asking.“ Aziraphale said almost apologetically, “I do have standards.” 

“I’ll show you long in the tooth. Just pay the man already. It’s not like you don’t have the money.” Crowley snapped.

“I tell you what. If you actually marry this ungrateful redheaded she-beast here and now as soon as the priest comes, you can have her for your asking price.” The slavemaster said with great big belly laugh. 

“Fine.” Aziraphale sighed, rolling his eyes. He handed over the money to the grinning slavemaster as a priest of Isis was delivered to them, and Crawley was freed at last from the rest of the slaves. The confused priest did as he was bid, producing the papyrus contract for them to both sign to finalize it. 

“At least we get a souvenir this time round.” Aziraphale chuckled, admiring their signatures next to one another. He tried not to overthink the fact that they had both signed their true names in the languages of Heaven and Hell, or that they still had their braids. 

“Yes, I’ll forever want to remember this experience.” Crawley grumbled. She jumped as something was placed around her shoulders. She was about to tear it off, the remembered weight of the slave rope round her neck still all too fresh. Crawley reeled herself back in time when she realized it was Aziraphale’s own sheath, the angel adjusting it for her. 

“We’ll get you cleaned up next. It would probably be best if you stay with me until your powers return.“ Aziraphale said as he handed her the marriage certificate for safekeeping, “Keep you out of trouble and all.”

“I guess a souvenir isn’t so bad after all.” Crawley muttered, keeping the marriage license close to her. 

It should be noted that things did not end well for the slavemaster, Crawley handing him personally off to Beelzebub later on. She got a commendation for finding a human so horrible and deserving of Hell. 

500 B.C, Babylon 

All Crawley wanted to do was stroll through the famous Hanging Gardens of Babylon, so renowned for its beauty that it would be know later on as one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. That’s all. That’s it. 

Instead, the demon was currently fending off the most persistent woman she’d ever had the misfortune of coming across. 

“My son needs a wife.” It had started out innocently enough. Early on, Crawley had noticed an older woman staring her down. That wasn’t unusual for humans to do so the demon had thought nothing of it. Crawley began to feel concern when the woman started to follow her around the gardens. It was distracting, and never a good sign when such things happened to Crawley. 

“That’s lovely for him, but I fail to see where I fit in.” Crawley tried to be civil. Perhaps the woman had mistaken her for someone else. 

“The fortune teller promised me that there would be a woman with hair red as blood in the gardens upon this very day, a woman fated to marry my dear boy. You are meant to be with my son.” The mother insisted. 

“It’s more copper than blood red really.” Crawley tried. She tried walking away really fast next. 

“The gods have decided this.” The mother wasn’t about to let a little thing like power walking detour her. 

“She would think this is funny.” Crawley muttered. She was just about to give up on the gardens for now, and wing her way out of this mess when a fair head caught her eye. 

Aziraphale was a vision dressed all in white and gold, bringing Crawley all the way back to the Wall. If she had been female presenting then, the Serpent and the First Liar might have been the originators of others sins. The angel looked desirable to Crawley in any form they decided to take, but Aziraphale’s full figured female form held a beauty to it that inspired artists, sculptors, and poets to tell the world about the deep valley of her breasts and the generous slopes of her full thighs. There were hieroglyphics just waiting to be discovered that stated “How beautiful are thy buttocks.” in reference to her. 

An idea formed in Crawley’s head as the unsuspecting angel admired some flowers. 

“Unfortunately for you, I am here on my own orders from the gods. I have traveled far and wide to find that woman.” Crawley said loudly enough to catch Aziraphale’s attention. All the pointing and running over to her did that as well. To the demon’s chagrin, the demented stubborn mother chased after her. 

“Crawley?”Was all Aziraphale could get out before thin arms were thrown around her.

“At last, I have found her!” Crawley cried, really hamming it up as she bodily clung to the confused, mildly annoyed angel. “My bride to be!”

“You can’t marry her! You are meant to marry my son!” The mother said, angrily stomping her foot. She looked ready to tear Crawly right off of Aziraphale. 

“Was there any other part of your prophecy? Was there meant to be a sign perhaps?” Aziraphale said dryly as Crawley all but crawled up into her arms.

“Yes! Good point! Upon finding her, there will be a sign.” Crawley said quickly. 

“What kind of sign?” The mother demanded. 

“I dunno. A signy sign.” Crawley said, making the angel heave a sigh as she subtly snapped her fingers. 

The garden was already colorful before with all its blooms and such so it took a true miracle to make it riot with new colors as all the flowers and then some spontaneously bloomed. Birds flew down from the trees to start singing all around them, and bees circled overhead to swarm. 

“That enough of a sign, or may we get on with our day?” Aziraphale asked the wide-eyed woman. She remained speechless so the angel took that as a yes, taking her leave and Crawley along with her. 

“Where are we going?” Crawley asked, content to stay where she was. 

“To find someone official to marry us. We can’t go around offending the gods, now can we?” 

“Nah, can’t have that.”

538 A.D., King Arthur’s court

While it was lovely not having to wear plate mail anymore, the rampant sexism was being to wear on Aziraphale, who was pretending to be his own twin sister at the moment. In particular, the insistent Lord Belmont was beginning to dance on her last nerve about it. 

“You should sit beside me, woman.” Lord Belmont smirked, already trying to herd her across the Great Hall. There was a feast going on, one that Aziraphale greatly wished to partake in while she kept an eye on the queen. She certainly didn’t want to do that with Lord Belmont at her side.

“I believe my husband would greatly disapprove of that.” Aziraphale lied. She didn’t want to be here like this, but she had been tasked to aid King Arthur’s court by any means necessary. The angel was female at the moment because of this. Something untoward was going on between Lancelot and Guinevere, and Aziraphale felt like she needed to get to the bottom of it before something unfortunate happened. There were some things that women would only tell other women about. 

“Any man who is foolish enough to leave your side deserves not to return to it.” Loud Belmont said with a prominent leer, the focus of which was quite obviously on her breasts. 

It was an ample enough bosom to cause some stir among the humans. Aziraphale has been generous with herself in that area, maybe even a touch overly excessive, but she couldn’t help it. Aziraphale just really liked the feel and weight of her own breasts. They had a heft to them that was comforting to her for some reason. Unfortunately, they tended to draw the wrong attention from the most unfortunate of company, namely Lord Belmont at the moment.

Aziraphale decided it was time to take her leave of him, but the man had other ideas in mind as he grabbed her by the waist, pressing the angel to his side. Aziraphale was about to do something unfortunate about that when Lord Belmont suddenly froze, and with good reason. Someone was holding a very sharp looking knife to the man’s throat.

“I’ll thank you, good sir, to unhand my lady.” Crowley snarled low and harsh into the human’s ear.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale smiled as she extracted herself, rushing over to the demon’s side. 

“Sir Crowley, could you refrain from killing Lord Belmont? I still have some use for him.” Arthur called out, the Great Hall quieting to watch the free entertainment. “This would also not be a good start for your peace talks on the behalf of the Black Knight.”

“Then perhaps he should learn to keep his hands off that which does not belong to him.” Crowley told the king, but put away the blade. 

“I wasn’t aware you knew Sir Aziraphale’s sister, the Lady Fell.” Guinevere said, causing a buzz throughout the court. 

“She claimed she was married.” Lord Belmont seemed to not have the good sense to give up. 

“She might have gotten a little head of herself, but she is my betrothed.“ Crowley assured easily. 

“I like to think we’re already married.” Aziraphale said.

“As do I.” Crowley said, looking quite thoughtful. “Your majesty, perchance, may I make a request?”

“I think I already know what you’re about to ask of me, but go ahead. The court is thoroughly intrigued.” Arthur smiled. 

“Good King Arthur, would you be so kind to marry the most beautiful Lady Fell and I so there will be nary a doubt of who she belongs to?” Crowley said quite grandly with a sweeping bow.

“Granted. Sir Crowley and Lady Fell come stand before me.” Arthur rose so the rest of the room did as well. Aziraphale and Crowley barely heard a word of it until “You may kiss your bride.” was uttered.

They both froze. So caught up in the moment, the angel and demon had both forgotten the new(new for them)human custom of the kiss at the end to seal the deal. They had signed documents, trading vast amounts of jewelry, made promises, said some vows, and had even exchanged blood on occasion, but they had never kissed before. They stared helplessly at one another, both getting redder with each passing moment. 

“At least we all know your bride is a virgin. I’m never seen a woman blush so deep about a kiss.” Arthur said, sounding quite amused about it. 

“From the looks of it, Sir Crowley is as well.” Lancelot chuckled, the court roaring with laughter. 

“Kiss each other before one of you passes out.” Guinevere tried to prompt them, only managing them to shuffle in a little closer to one another. 

“Would that be all right? If we...if we kissssed?” Crowley’s words betrayed by his forked tongue. 

“Of course it would, you idiot. We’re married.” Aziraphale’s glow gave her away as well. They surged towards each other like a great force holding them back from one another suddenly snapped. 

Fucking Nine Rings of Hell, Crowley found out that angels, his angel, tasted like the very moment you experience being loved by the sun again after being in the depths of a cool dark woods for fairy lengths of non-time. Hope, joy, relief, gratefulness, happiness, warmth, beauty, bliss...

Love. 

By the Three Spheres of Heaven, Aziraphale discovered that devils, not just any devil, his Crowley, his devil, tasted like the moment you wake up at a winter 3am by a dream that compels you to leave your bed, leave your house, to stand in the snow and stare down the night’s moonlit roads. Wonder, curiosity, excitement, chilled, glee, splendor, disbelief, faith...

Love.

Mutual realization of that shared feeling was what parted them. Ignoring the cheering humans, they stared into each other’s eyes, afraid to break any more contact, afraid to move, caged in each other’s arms.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered their own secret language, a mesh of divine and profane dialect. “Truly?”

“I have loved you for so long I don’t really know how to do anything else.” Crowley’s heart told the angel before his head could tell his tongue to stop him. The demon screwed up his eyes and turned his head away like he were expecting a blow. What he got was an angel who grabbed Crowley’s face, turned that head back round, and kissed him with such fervor and passion that they both fell over, much to the general amusement of everyone else. 

It should be noted that later that evening Lancelot and Guinevere’s affair would be found out, the couple making a daring escape to avoid certain death. Meanwhile, an angel and a demon were too indisposed celebrating their first honeymoon in over four thousand years to notice. 

After that, Aziraphale was made the Principality of England, more out of punishment than promotion, and told to stay there unless ordered elsewhere temporarily for an assignment. The angel was under orders to fix the whole mess with King Arthur. Until it was fully sorted out, Aziraphale would to remain the Principality of England. 

It was during that time that Crowley got to fully understand just how clever his dear partner was. 

“Do you like it here, my love?” Aziraphale asked Crowley on the day of the terrible battle, the skirmish finally winding down. That tended to happen when important people were killed. The pair walked through the moist, red killing grounds, unnoticed and unimpeded. The angel carried a great length of material with her, nearly folded over her arms. 

“It’s full of damp places.” Crowley said after a moment of thought. 

“Now that you mention it, it is a bit damp.” That apparent dampness dripping off the tip of the angel’s upturned nose. 

“I do like how green it is though. Very healthy plants here.” Crowley amended, the demon wondering where this was going. 

“What if we stayed here? Would you be fine with that?” Aziraphale said, throwing the demon off entirely. 

“What are you going on about? You know that’s impossible.”

“Is it?” Aziraphale had that Look about her, giving the demon reason to pause. 

“You’ve gone and figured something out. I know you have. Go on then.”

“Well, we’ve both noticed for several millennia now that our missions practically run parallel with one another.“

“Not perfectly, but enough so that we keep running into each other. What about it?”

“What do you think would happen if one of us remained stationary?”

“That possibly the other would become so as well, for the most part at least.” Crowley followed through the reasoning. “It would be brilliant if one of us can swing it. Is that why we are out here, navigating around corpses and other ick?”

“Ah, yes. Sorry about that, but I did tell you not to wear your good boots.” Aziraphale said, “Ah! Here he is.”

“The king is dead. Long live the king.” Crowley grimaced down at a very dead King Arthur. 

“Quite. You’ve already gone and figured it out.” Aziraphale said as she wrapped the body up in its shroud. 

“I have?”

“Follow me.” Aziraphale said as she handed Crowley the sword Excalibur. “Please don’t lose that.”

“I’m not you. I can be trusted with a sword.“ Crowley said, shooting the angel a cheeky grin. 

“Too soon.“ Aziraphale said, favoring her husband with a very sour look. 

“It’s been over 4,000 years, angel. If Mother can get over it, so can you.” Crowley laughed. 

The demon followed the angel carrying the king’s corpse deep into the woods, the Aziraphale whispering to the forest the further they traveled inward. At Aziraphale’s bidding, the trees shifted aside to allow the roads to change and shift until they were brought to a lake, the lake of the sword’s origin. There, on the mirror-like waters was a boat, and with it, three women.

The Lady of the Lake looked made of silver and sorrow. She took Excalibur from Crowley without a word. The graceful lady returned it and herself to the watery depths, the world around them suddenly feeling less for it.

The remaining two enchantresses, Morgan le Fay and Nimue, took Arthur from Aziraphale to place the king in the boat. Morgan le Fay took the stern while Nimue took the bow. Aziraphale joined them in the boat long enough to lay her hands upon Arthur. 

Crowley felt the very molecules in the air pulse and then grow eerily still before there was a sudden rush of energy, a power that drove itself into that shell of a body. Crowley realized that Aziraphale had just pulled a Lazarus. The dead was brought back to life, Arthur once again drawing breath, all of his wounds miraculously healed. 

“It worked.” Nimue gasped.

“Arthur lives.” Morgan le Fay smiled, sweet and wicked. 

Tapping down panic, Crowley reminded himself that Aziraphale had a plan. Heaven was going to notice that level of miracle. There was going to be inquires about it. 

“Sleep.” Aziraphale solemnly told the king, Arthur falling into a deep, deathlike slumber. “Sleep until your time has come again.”

“Do we have an accord then?” Aziraphale asked as she stood back up, addressing the enchantresses. 

“As long as Arthur remains asleep, we live. So, if he happens to sleep forever, we get to live for a very, very long time.” Morgan le Fay said. 

“And we get the hidden isle of Avalon, and all of it its gifts and riches to hide him and us away from the world, a secret place of respite for ourselves to come and go as we please.” Nimue finished.

“Excellent. Any further questions? Good. Mind how you go.” Aziraphale said when she was satisfied everyone knew their parts to play. The enchantresses soon left, their boat soon swallowed up by the mists of Avalon. 

“So, what do you think?” Aziraphale grinned, obviously quite pleased with herself. 

“Nicely cloak and dagger that, but I fail to see how this keeps you here.” Crowley said, pulling his wife for now near. 

“I am to stay in England as its Principality until I get the whole King Arthur debacle sorted out.“

“Yeah. So?”

“How can I possible sort it out when there is a prophecy about the return of the One True King, he who shall reappear during England’s greatest time of need?”

“What kind of need gets to decide that?”

“I don’t know. Nimue made the whole prophecy part up.” Aziraphale said with a little shrug.

“Your lying to Heaven?!”Even after all this time, the angel never ceased to amaze and delight him.

“I most certainly am not.” Aziraphale said like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “Nimue is. Obviously. I simply wrote down what she provided for my report. It’s hardly my fault that she failed to give any specifics about a timeline, and how was I to know she was lying.”

“So you’ll just have to wait here until Arthur returns?“

“Precisely.”

“You clever sneaky little sneak of an angel.”

“Your angel.“

“Always and forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Your kudos make the most darling flower children. Your comments wear black to any and all weddings, even their own.


End file.
